Total pages in book: 46
Estimated words: 43375 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 217(@200wpm)___ 174(@250wpm)___ 145(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 43375 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 217(@200wpm)___ 174(@250wpm)___ 145(@300wpm)
She gave me a look that said she didn’t believe that for a second. “I think it’s supposed to be something about one person cooks and the other cleans.”
I shrugged. “I was paraphrasing.”
Sliding onto one of the barstools at the island, she looked at me and raised an eyebrow. “Then who cleans?” I opened my mouth, but she held up her hand as realization dawned on her face. “Don’t say it.”
“Okay, I won’t tell you that someone comes in to clean and straighten the apartment every day.”
She shook her head, clearly exasperated, then took a bite of her eggs. After eating for a few minutes, her forehead puckered, and she glanced at me sitting on the stool next to her, drinking a protein shake.
“Food okay?” I asked, looking at her plate for signs that I’d burned something.
“Yes. No, I mean, yes, the food is great, but I need to apologize.”
Confused, I waited for her to explain.
“Earlier, what I said…or didn’t say…about you having a cleaning service. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have tried to make you feel bad for it. There’s nothing wrong with you using your hard-earned money to give someone a job. A perfectly respectable job, I might add. I was basically accusing you of being a snob, but it was really me who was being that way.”
I reached out and drew a finger softly down her cheek. “You’re too hard on yourself, baby. I didn't even notice it. But thank you.”
Her tension began to leech out as she turned back to her breakfast.
I didn’t want her to feel bad about what she’d said. But the wheels in my head were spinning, forming an idea of how I could use this to my advantage.
Deciding to go for it, I twisted my still so I was facing her. “Does this mean you’re going to let me pay for—”
“No,” she interrupted firmly, giving me a look, but it was softer than I expected.
I just grinned and kissed her before sauntering back to the bedroom to take a shower.
When we were both ready to go, she tried to grab her keys and head for the subway.
I blocked the door.
“Micah—”
My eyes narrowed at her. “Don’t. I’m driving you.”
“You have practice—”
I knew exactly what she was going to say.
“On Long Island. I know, you’re in the opposite direction.”
“Then why—”
“Because I’m taking care of you, baby. Let me. Even if it’s just a fucking ride.”
She looked up at me, a thousand things flashing behind her eyes. But she landed on something sweet and almost shy. “Okay.”
At The Tight Line, I kept my hand possessively on the small of her back as I walked her in. Heads turned. Eyes followed. Lionel barked out a laugh. Someone else whistled low under their breath.
But I noticed Derek at the register. He didn’t laugh. He looked like he’d just bitten into a lemon.
Interesting.
Did he have a thing for my woman? I’d have to dig more into that later.
I guided Rylin toward the kitchen. Before she could vanish behind the swinging door, I grabbed her wrist and pulled her in close.
“Micah—”
I kissed her. Hard. Possessive. Deep enough to leave no doubt in anyone’s mind that she was mine.
When I pulled back, she was breathless and dazed.
“You’re off early, right?” I asked, my voice a little rough and my jaw clenched. It was taking a fuck ton of effort to stay in control.
She nodded. “Four o’clock.”
“Good. Be ready by six. We’re going on a date. Pack a bag.”
Her brows lifted, but she didn’t argue.
“Yes?”
She smiled. “Yes.”
“Good girl.”
Her breath hitched, and I kissed her again, one last time before heading out.
I glanced at Derek, the look on my face a clear warning. He met my eyes for a beat, then scurried away like a frightened little mouse. Good.
That night, I showed up at her place early.
Which was saying something, considering I’d left practice late, rushed through a post-game film review, and still managed to get across the city in record time.
I parked outside her building and waited by the door, shifting from foot to foot like a damn teenager on prom night. The streetlight above me flickered, casting amber light over the sidewalk.
Then the door opened, and I forgot how to breathe.
“Fuck.” Need saturated my voice. “You look…damn, Rylin.”
She was wearing a summer dress that hugged her like a second skin until it flared around mid-thigh. Pale blue, soft-looking, with a V-neck that showed off just enough cleavage to make me sweat, and a hemline that ended high enough to keep me guessing about what she was wearing—or not wearing—underneath. Her legs were bare, her skin glowing, and her dark, honey-colored hair was softly curled over her shoulders.
The fabric was a little worn, but it had clearly been cared for, so no one would notice unless they were inches from her. But she smiled nervously and fingered the hem of her dress, unsure. “Is this okay? I wasn’t sure. I don’t have anything really fancy.”